


i've got you on my mind

by whisperdlullaby



Series: colours of the rainbow (shine so bright) [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 04:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2374142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperdlullaby/pseuds/whisperdlullaby





	i've got you on my mind

 

“Oh my god, Niall,” Harry cries out in panic, throwing his shirt onto the pile accumulating on his floor, “what the hell am I doing? Why did I think this would be a good idea?

“Because love makes you do stupid things,” he replies easily through the receiver.

“You’re not helping,” Harry snaps, yanking his lavender v-neck off the hanger.

“You didn’t ask for my help.”

“I’m cancelling. I’m calling him right now and telling him to not bother picking me up. I had a brief lapse of sanity, and now I’m thinking clear.” He rearranges the phone on his shoulder, holding the top against him as he peers into the mirror.

“And then you’re going to go right back to snogging in the toilets and the gym storage room. A regular date is not going to kill you.”

“This is not a date! And how do you know we snogged in the gym storage room?” Harry demands, shirt dropping loosely in his hand. “I didn’t tell you that.”

“Whatever, I read your diary. So what.”

“I don’t have a diary,” he grits out through bared teeth. At that horrifying moment, the doorbell rings downstairs. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit, Niall. He’s here. I’m not even ready. Oh my god, my dad is going to answer the door. Oh my god, they’re going to lock him in the basement and hook him up to a lie detector test.” He rushes out a gotta go die, and hangs up in a flurry, stuffing his phone inside his trousers pocket. Pulling on his shirt in record time, he races down the stairs, praying every step of the way that his dad or brothers haven’t gotten there first.

No such luck.

Louis’s already sitting on the couch, his dad and Theo standing before him. “So,” his dad says, “where are you planning on taking my son tonight?”

Groaning, Harry wonders if he wishes hard enough, that the floor will open up and swallow him whole right at this very moment. “ _Dad,_ ” he whines, covering his face in humiliation. This is exactly why he told Louis to wait in his car. But no, he doesn’t listen.  _Don’t give me a hickey, stop trying to get me hard in English class._  He never listens.

Louis’ gaze flies up to meet Harry’s, eyes wide and petrified.

Harry’s never going to get a boyfriend with these crazies disguised as his family. Not that he wants Louis to be his boyfriend or anything. Definitely not. No way. Louis’s just nice to snog…and look at. Maybe sometimes he can be funny, and really obnoxious in an endearing kind of way. But no. Louis Tomlinson is certainly  _not_  boyfriend material.

As if he’s forgotten the scrutinizing eyes of Harry’s dad and brother, Harry catches the subtle flick of Louis’ eyes on him. He turns a shade brighter while Louis turns a shade lighter, looking back at his dad and Theo, scared they witnessed him checking out their son and baby brother. “We’re just going to the cinema, sir.”

“What film?” Theo asks.

“Uh, I’m not sure yet, I was going to let Harry decide.”

This answer seems to please them enough. They exchange looks before his dad focuses his attention back on Louis, nodding in consideration. “And what are your intentions?”

“My, uh. What?” Louis squeaks, paling.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Harry intervenes. He runs over, his body a barrier between Louis and his crazy family that he is going to kill with his bare hands. “I think you guys had your fun, we’re going to go now.” He looks expectantly at Louis, waiting for him to stand, but he appears too frightened to even move.

Great, fucking great. They single-handedly ruined what might’ve been the only possibility for him ever getting laid.

“Louis,” he says evenly, “let’s go.”

As if that was all that he needed, Louis immediately jumps up and practically dashes for the door. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Styles,” he calls hurriedly over his shoulder. “You too, Theo.”

While Louis fumbles with his shoes at the door, Harry shoots both his dad and brother the most dangerous glare he can muster. “I hate you,” he mouths.

“I’m only looking out for you, sweetie pie,” his dad answers. He keeps a straight face for a total of four seconds until Theo begins snickering next to him, and he cracks up with him.

Harry rolls his eyes, and storms away, meeting Louis at the door. He can’t even look at him. He’s definitely not getting laid now.

Just as they’re heading out the door, his dad’s voice calls, “Make sure you keep your hands to yourself, bucko.”

Louis squeaks out a noise and all but runs to his car, head ducked.

Harry closes his eyes and whines. Maybe he should just call this off right now, save Louis the trouble. God knows he won’t even want to make out with him, when all he’ll hear is his dad’s voice in his head telling him not to lay a hand on his son.

In the end, Harry slides into the passenger seat and says, “I told you not to bloody come into the house.”

Louis blinks, gulping noticeably as he pulls out of the driveway. They sit in excruciating silence for a whole five blocks before Louis finally says, “Holy shit. What the hell? I haven’t even had to deal with girls’ parents that bad.”

“They mostly do it to torture me,” Harry explains. “That, and they like to pretend I’m a girl. It’s this thing they do. It’s been like this since I was six, basically.”

“I’m forever scarred.”

“Sorry,” Harry murmurs, sinking into his seat. “I totally understand if you don’t want to snog ever again.”

Louis turns to look at him sideways, unblinking, and then quietly chuckles. “What?”

“Well, I’m just saying… I wouldn’t want to kiss me after that.”

Louis laughs, flipping on his signal.

Harry’s been in his car once or twice, but it’s never been long lived. For the past two weeks, most of their one-on-one time has been spent making out in some hidden corner of the school. He’s not exactly sure why when Louis has an entire backseat just for that. It’s a crappy old thing, with ripped seats and a faint odour that suggests something might’ve died in it once. Still, it’s one step up from what Harry has. Which is nothing.

“So, are we actually going to the movies?” Harry asks.

“Well, that was the original plan, but then I thought, why do that when we can just snog in my backseat?”

Harry nods in encouragement. The thought of kissing, unhurried, no chance of being caught, sounds far more appealing than sitting in a dark, public theatre while Louis breathes next to him.

“But,” Louis adds, and Harry feels his heart sink, “then I met your dad and your brother, and I’m kind of scared to touch you now.”

“No,” Harry protests with a bit of a whine, “don’t be. You can touch me. Touch me all you want.”

Louis gives him a sidelong glance, eyebrow shooting up in mischief. “In that case…” he says, and promptly turns into an abandoned parking lot.

“Well, that was easy,” Harry says suspiciously. “You just wanted me to beg, didn’t you?”

Louis turns off the ignition, undoing his seatbelt before turning to Harry. “You caught me.” He smirks, leaning in to brush his lips against Harry’s, cutting off any reply. Harry’s seat belt goes loose around him, Louis’s hands falling to his hips as he helps to manoeuvre him out of the seat.

Untangling himself, Harry allows Louis to guide him into the backseat, mouth opening as they fumble through the small space between the seats. Louis laughs, warm breath staining his lips. Once Harry becomes wedged between, legs twisted in some weird contortion away from his body, he gives up and removes his mouth from Louis, shimmying successfully into the backseat. Louis follows soon after, falling between his legs, mouth reattaching to his without hesitation.

Slipping his hand up the front of his shirt, Louis rests his hand on Harry’s belly and licks into his mouth. Harry shivers.

Louis might still be an arsehole, and cocky to the point where it’s not even funny, but god, if he isn’t the best kisser in the entire history of the world. Not that Harry has any past experience to compare it to, but he  _has_  to be.

“You look really fucking hot in this shirt,” Louis murmurs, “but I bet you’d look even hotter without it.” He smirks again, eyebrows wiggling.

“Wow, that was really bad.”

“It kind of was, wasn’t it?” Louis reflects.

Harry nods, smiling in amusement.

“Oh well, let’s take it off, anyway.”

Laughing, Harry obliges, lifting up enough for Louis to slide it over his head. He feels a rush of excitement before it settles in his gut, cock jumping in his jeans, the rough material of Louis’s shirt sliding against his bare skin. Since ninety eight percent of their snogging has happened in the vicinity of the school, the only article of clothing they dared removed was a sweater.

Harry still gets nervous sometimes. From the kissing, to the hickeys, to the first time he dared brush his fingers underneath Louis’ shirt. The entire time he’s left thinking, am I doing this right? Is he going to laugh at me? Does this even feel good? Can he tell I have no idea what I’m doing?

He manages to push Louis’s shirt halfway up his stomach, fingers shaking, before Louis laughs against his mouth, pulling it off the rest of the way. He doesn’t comment. Harry tries not to feel embarrassed.

Harry’s already growing hard, and through the friction of their jeans, he can feel Louis is too. It’s not the first time he’s noticed, whether it’s been a graze of his hand or pressed against his thigh, but it’s the first time he’s been left without an excuse as to why he can’t do something about it.

Louis kisses below his ear and then down his jaw. The only sound filling the air around them is their heavy breathing. For someone who has only just recently admitted to fancying blokes, Louis seems to move with surprisingly more confidence than Harry. Funny, considering he’s the one who has practically been out his entire life - that, or just plain depressing.

Harry kind of likes the brush of their skin, Louis’s warm and smooth against his. He had still been on the verge of determining whether he wanted Louis Tomlinson to be the taker of his virginity, but now he can’t think of a single reason why not.

Louis’ lips hover over his and Harry reaches out blindly, but he draws back. He ignores Harry’s blatant whine of disapproval, and through gasps of air he asks, “How far have you gone?”

“Far enough,” Harry replies automatically.

“Far enough?” Louis repeats, and Harry considers smacking that suspicious smirk right off his face.

“Yeah.”

Louis looks him over, upturned lip tucked between his teeth. Harry turns his head to the side to avoid Louis’ judgement, staring at a rip in the seat that’s the size of his fist, beige foam coming through the seams. He was hoping they’d never have this conversation. That Harry could fake his way into having sex, and it would be done and over with, without ever having to tell Louis he’s actually never done  _anything_  before. Not even a measly kiss when he was five and having renditions of Snow White (he was Snow White, of course).

“You’re a virgin,” Louis concludes suddenly.

“Am not.”

“You are.”

“Well, whatever. So what?” Harry counters, defences set high. He shifts underneath Louis’ weight, wishing he’d at least get off of him for this mortifying conversation. “It’s not like you’ve ever done anything, Mr. Fresh-out-of-the-closet,” he shoots back.

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t with girls,” Louis points out. Finally, he sits up, straddling Harry’s hips. Harry tries really hard not to think about his bum sitting delightfully on his dick.

“Whatever,” Harry huffs.

Laughing, Louis bends down, mouthing at his jaw. Harry tries to resist, pushing his cheek further into the cushion away from him. Louis presses his ass into his crotch, though, and Harry has no choice as a throaty moan escapes his lips. “No need to get all pissy,” Louis banters. “It’s kind of fun being able to corrupt you.” He wiggles a little - purposely, he’s sure - and Harry bites down onto his lip until he tastes copper.

“It’s not like I wanted my first kiss to be with you,” he shoots out defiantly. Louis snaps back in an instant, eyes wide as saucers. Harry, very abruptly, realizes his mistake. “I mean -” he starts, but he knows it’s no use.

“Wait,  _what?_ ”  

Groaning, Harry closes his eyes, wishing he could sink into the cushion and never be seen again.

“You’ve never even kissed someone before me?”

Harry remains silent, hoping that maybe if he doesn’t talk for long enough, Louis might forget and they can pretend this humiliating conversation never happened.

No such luck, of course, because only a second passes before Louis bursts out into choked laughter. “Oh my god. You bring a whole new level to virgin.”

“Shut up,” Harry hisses, face burning. He sits up, pushing at Louis’s chest. “I knew this was a stupid idea.”

Harry gets halfway into the front seat before Louis, through his laughter, manages to reach out and grab onto his wrist. “No, hey,” he tugs him back, laughter dying down to a soft chuckle, “come on.”

Harry, very pointedly, glares.

His laughter stops as he slips on a straight face. Harry doesn’t buy it. His eyes are laughing. He gives another tug to his wrist, and this time, without much resistance, Harry goes falling onto him. “It’s kind of hot, actually,” he says against his ear.

“Yeah, right,” Harry snorts, doubtful. He tries to shrug Louis off, but he latches onto his ear.

“It is.” Louis sits back, head against the back window. He smiles goofily at Harry, and Harry doesn’t know what else to do but make a face before falling back into his lips.

Scooting up his lap, Harry presses close against Louis’ front, tongue tracing his. At least, he thinks, it wasn’t completely obvious that he was a virgin kisser.

Louis’ hands slide to his hips, then slowly circle around until they’re pressing into the small of his back. A finger pokes in past the band of his underwear, then three, and Harry’s hips push into Louis’s without constraint. Screw not knowing whether he wants Louis to take his virginity. He’d let him right now, right in the backseat of his shitty car.

“Two months ago,” Louis says breathily, wet lips brushing against Harry’s as he speaks, “what would you do if someone said we'd be snogging, half naked, in the back of my car?”

Harry laughs. “Probably laugh in their face,” he replies honestly, hands circling Louis‘ neck. “That or set them on fire. Depending on my mood.”

Louis nips at Harry’s bottom lip, chuckling. “And now?”

“Now,” Harry replies, leaning in for another chaste kiss, “I can’t say I mind.” He can feel Louis’ smile against his neck, the dip where his teeth start. Harry hates that what he really means is that he kind of likes it a whole lot more than he should. “Are you nervous?” he asks quietly.

Louis hesitates, eyes flicking across Harry’s. Harry fidgets, the moment feeling oddly intimate. “A little,” he admits. “Are you?”

At first Harry shrugs vaguely, but then nods. “Yeah.” He reckons the only reason he’s not completely freaking out right now is due to the lack of lighting pouring in from the dimmed streetlamp outside. There’s no doubt Louis has a nice body, lean and toned for a sixteen year-old; meanwhile, Harry still has an embarrassing amount of baby fat. He’s sure Louis can feel it, but he’d like to put off him getting a good look for as long as he can.

Harry might also be nervous just for the sole fact that it’s  _Louis Tomlinson,_  but he’d never admit to that.

Before he can think on it much further and consequently get lost in a web of insecurities, Louis licks into his mouth again. Harry’s acutely aware of the fingers still peeked into the back of his underwear. So many emotions are happening right now - mainly stemming from fear and arousal - that Harry’s not sure what he even wants.

“Wait,” Louis says, pulling away to look at Harry suspiciously, “are those - your underwear feels really soft.”

Harry freezes, skin blazing red in realization. How could he have been so stupid? Even if he didn’t expect this to happen, he still should’ve  _thought_  about the possibility, just in case. And now - now he will never hear the end of it. Louis’ definitely going to end whatever this is because he’s a total freak who can’t think, and that’ll be the first and last of the action he will ever get in his whole entire panty-wearing life.

“Are you wearing -” Louis starts, and then whispers in what has to be absolute disgust, “panties?”

“They’re comfortable,” Harry says at once, and instantly regrets it. Couldn’t he have just said they were expensive briefs, and then refused to let Louis take off his trousers, and then he would never have to know? God, he really is an absolute _idiot._  Harry doesn’t need to see any more of the look of pure disgust on Louis’ face as he goes to scuttle off his lap and search for his discarded shirt.

Louis grabs onto his wrist and holds him there. Harry refuses to meet his eyes. “You wear panties?” he asks again, incredulous.

“I know. I’m a freak, okay? But it would really mean a lot to me if we could just pretend -”

“Shit.”

“I don’t - it’s not like I wear them all the time,” Harry says quickly, cheeks nearly melting off. “I just wasn’t thinking - and my laundry -”

Harry expects to get laughed at, maybe even insulted, but what he doesn’t expect is to get cut off by a bruising kiss. Harry falls back into him, surprised but not any less tense. Is Louis actually reacting  _positively_  towards this?

“Can I see?” Louis murmurs against his lips after a few heated kisses.

Harry pulls back to get a better look at his face, searching for signs that he’s just taking the piss. There’s no smirk on his lips, though - instead, his cheeks are pink, either in embarrassment or arousal or a fascinating combination of the two. To say Harry is shocked at this turn of events is an understatement.

Harry hesitates. “You’re not going to laugh?” he asks, hating how vulnerable he sounds.

Louis swallows, then shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I won’t laugh.”

Harry still hesitates, though the arousal building steadily in his gut wins out as he allows Louis to push him down onto his back. Louis clambers on top of him, and when he kisses Harry, tongue flicking tentatively, Harry can taste the nerves. He pretends not to notice the way Louis’ hands are shaking as he undoes Harry’s belt buckle and zipper.

Harry can’t _breathe_.

Once Louis’ gotten his trousers undone, Harry swallows, lifting his hips to allow Louis to tug them down past his thighs. Louis looks down at his now exposed panties - red and silky - and Harry’s skin buzzes all over, awaiting his reaction.

“Fuck,” Louis starts, tone hardly over a whisper, “you are - you are something else.”

Harry’s ears prickle with heat. “In a good way or bad way?” he asks apprehensively.

“Good,” he says after a moment's break, and Harry breathes a sigh of relief. “This was a -” he pauses, searching for the right word. “This was a very unexpected treat,” he eventually concludes. He leans down for a wet kiss, and says, “You’re kind of sexy, you know that?”

“What?” Harry sputters disbelievingly, giggling nervously against his mouth. “You’re full of shit.”

Louis shakes his head, saying nothing more on the matter as he kisses Harry further into the seat. Now that the embarrassment has subsided a bit, Harry realizes just how hard he is. Louis’ straddling him in such a way that there’s no pressure on his cock, and Harry has to very purposefully stop himself from jerking his hips up into him. He never thought feeling so exposed would turn him on so much.

“Do you mind if I take mine off too?” Louis asks, hands already on his belt before Harry can reply. He pulls them down in record time, only faltering when they get stuck on his Vans, which he ends up removing as well. Harry pushes his down the rest of the way, but with the limited space, Louis ends up having to take his shoes off for him. It really is an awkward scramble, limbs knocking and a lot less graceful than it is in the movies, but Harry feels all the more turned on, regardless.

Before situating himself back on top of Harry, Louis takes another look to where Harry’s cock is definitely straining against his panties. He laughs again and even though Harry doesn’t sense malice in it, he blushes all the same. “You are absolutely too big for those, and it shouldn’t be hot at all,” he says, leaning down into him, “but somehow, it so is.”

This time when Louis kisses him, he presses his body flat against Harry’s, their crotches aligning. Harry gasps, the feeling of Louis’ equally hard cock delightful through the thin material. By the time their hips start to rock, their kissing has turned into a heated battle of tongues.

Louis’ hands slide along Harry’s hips, his calloused fingers snagging the soft material of his underwear. Harry could probably, actually die. He feels like he might’ve died already, because there’s no way this is  _actually_  happening right now.

Louis’ hands move to Harry’s thighs and up, until the tips of his fingers are peeking into the elastic of his underwear and into the curve of his bum. Harry gets the hint and spreads his legs further, hooking them around Louis’ middle. The change of angle is all the more amazing, sparks shooting down Harry’s spine as he gasps audibly into Louis’ wonderfully hot mouth. How the bloke he hated most in the world just a few short weeks ago ended up being the bloke to give him the most pleasure he’s ever experienced is entirely beyond him.

The jerk of their hips is sharp and sporadic after that, Harry desperate for the release pooling in his stomach and dizzying his head. Louis seems no less hurried, fingers pressing half-moons into Harry’s sensitive, hidden skin.

When Harry does come, it’s fantastic. He suspected getting off with someone would be worlds better than getting off on his own, but he didn’t expect  _that_  much better, especially when that someone else didn’t even actually touch his dick.

Fortunately, Louis seems to be on much the same page as he comes, moaning loudly into Harry’s shoulder. He remains there, panting against his skin while Harry stares up at the ceiling, hardly able to contain his blissful grin. Their dicks might’ve not touched, but he’s pretty sure that in some circles, that was definitely considered sex.

Shit, he just had sex with  _Louis Tomlinson_. His arch-nemesis for the better half of his secondary education. He had sex with Louis Tomlinson, his archenemy, and he fucking  _loved_  it.

When Louis finally regains breath, he turns back to Harry, kissing him surprisingly soft and intimate. Harry’s too trapped in the blissful haze of his orgasm to pretend he doesn’t love that too.

*

“This is stupid. We shouldn’t have come.”

Niall shrugs, eyes rimmed red. “He’s your boyfriend.”

Harry stops in his tracks to sock him in the arm. “Bugger off, he’s  _not_  my boyfriend.” He catches Niall rolling his eyes, and he considers punching him in the arm once more. Louis appears before he can though, balanced on his skateboard with a stupid sideways cap on his head.

“You look dumb in that hat,” Harry greets.

“You look dumb in that stupid purple jumper,” Louis counters, tapping on the end of his skateboard with his foot until it lands in his hand.

“Thanks.” He folds his arms across his chest, eyes scanning the courtyard. He’s spent three and a half years in this school, and it’s the first time he’s even dared to step out into this territory. He feels mildly uncomfortable, and far too out of place. He knows everyone’s wondering what the hell he’s doing here, and why Louis is talking to him. At least Niall looks like he might somewhat belong. Maybe.

His eyes land on three girls sitting on the powerbox, bare spider-legs dangling over. “Sorry,” he tells Louis, “I forgot my mini skirt and tube top at home.”

Louis looks confused for a moment, before briefly glancing over at the girls. “Oh,” he says, and shrugs, turning back to Harry. He waits a moment, eyes flicking over his, and then breaks out into a wide grin. “No need to be jealous.”

“You wish.” Harry snorts.

Instead of replying, Louis focuses his attention on Niall who is very blatantly staring at the group of girls. Harry worries that he doesn’t know just how creepy he can be sometimes.  “Niall, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Hey, Louis.” Niall diverts his attention from the girls, holding his hand out to exchange a high-five. Harry gags in his mouth. The last thing he needs is for them to be exchanging bro shakes. “You may want to try teaching your boyfriend some manners. You might have better luck than me.”

Harry’s head turns so fast that it nearly goes all the way around. He comes up with two perfect plans for murdering Niall by the time Louis replies.

“I’ll try, but I think he’s pretty helpless.”

This time, when his head snaps to look at Louis, he thinks he might’ve caused permanent neck damage. Louis doesn’t look at him, doesn’t even blink. Niall’s laughing at him with his eyes again. He knows it.

“Yeah,” Niall says, slapping him on the back. Harry hates him. “Well, that’s Harry for you.”

Louis laughs, looking completely and entirely unfazed. Harry doesn’t think he even realizes what he just did.

Bloody hell. Does Louis actually think he’s his  _boyfriend?_  Sure, they may snog, a lot. And sure, they might’ve dry-humped in the backseat of Louis’s car until they got off, but that doesn’t qualify them as boyfriends.

Does it?

Down the row of steps, one of Louis’s friends calls him over. “I’ll be right back,” he says. “Don’t leave.”

That might be pretty hard when Harry is too shocked to speak.

“Holy shit,” Niall bursts out as soon as Louis wheels away.

“Don’t you -”

“Louis Tomlinson is your boyfriend.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Harry says, laying a punch on his arm with each declaration. “He is not.”

Niall laughs harder. “Well, he seems to think you are.”

“Oh my god,” Harry groans, throwing his hands over his face.

“So, what? You can have sex with the guy but God forbid he’s your boyfriend?”

“We haven’t had sex!” he cries, a bit too loudly. He does a quick three-sixty, making sure no one’s overheard. The closest people are a couple making out in the far corner, but they seem a little too involved in themselves to make a point to eavesdrop on Harry’s conversation.

He watches as Louis does a jump off the top step, landing gracefully on his board five steps later. He’s not as bad a skateboarder as Harry once suspected, but still, he’s no pro. Louis sneaks a look at him, and Harry gives him the most unimpressed expression he can manage.

So, yeah, whatever. He might’ve come while Louis was on top of him, kissing him, in their underwear, and despite what he originally had thought in the confusion of his orgasm, it was  _not_  sex. And that doesn’t mean they’re boyfriends either.

“But you want to.”

“What,” Harry asks dryly, “did you read that in my diary too?”

“No, but thanks for finally admitting that you have one.”

Harry flips him the finger, scowling.

They watch as Louis pulls jumps and spins, seemingly unfazed to the fact that he asked Harry to come here and he’s not even paying attention to him. He sighs, tapping his foot against the ground impatiently. “So, what? He expects us to stand here all lunch and watch him attempt to skateboard?”

“Give the guy a break. He’s trying to impress his boyfriend.”

“Shut up, he is not.” As an afterthought, he adds, “And he’s  _not_  my boyfriend.”

Niall doesn’t reply, and even though Harry can’t see it, he knows he totally just rolled his eyes at him on the inside.

Louis attempts a trick at the railing, and he manages to get three quarters of the way down before he loses his balance and goes flying onto the concrete, skateboard falling mercilessly on top of him. The girls stifle giggles from above, and the boys yell catcalls. Louis sits up, rubbing at his elbow, but doesn’t stand. He kicks at his skateboard, looking frustrated and mildly embarrassed.

Harry feels too much pity to laugh.

“Oh come on,” Niall says, shoving him forward, “go kiss your boyfriend’s wounds better.”

Harry flips him off again, but heads towards Louis anyway. By the time he reaches him, he’s moved onto physically abusing his skateboard. He looks up when Harry approaches, watching him as he says, “You’re really fucking stupid.” Louis’ expression seems to fall as Harry crouches down close to him, and adds, quiet enough for no one to overhear, “but kind of a little bit adorable.”

For a moment, Louis only looks at him, expressionless, before the corner of his lips twitch up the slightest bit. He ducks his head, cap hiding his face. Harry tries not to feel embarrassed.

“I’d kiss you right now if I could.”

Louis’s cap moves up, revealing his bright, blue eyes once more, and the quick dart of his tongue across his lips. “Then kiss me,” he says evenly.

“Yeah, right.”

Louis opens his mouth to reply, but is stopped short as one of the girls approaches. “Aw, pumpkin,” she coos, voice too high to be normal, “are you okay? That looked like it hurt.”

“I’m fine,” he says, looking at Harry as he talks.

“Do you need anything? Water?” She pauses, then giggles, adding, “A massage?”

“No, I’m fine,” he repeats. He sneaks the briefest look up at her, then back to Harry, a hint of amusement floating in his eyes.

“Okay, well -”

Suddenly, Louis’s standing up. Harry thinks he might actually be taking her up on her offer, until he’s holding his hand out. “Come on,” he says to Harry, “I want to show you something.”

Harry eyes it hesitantly before obliging, allowing Louis to pull him up from the concrete. Louis starts walking away, leaving the blonde to stand there, confused. Harry sneaks a look up to Niall, uneasy about leaving him in this place by himself, but he seems fine, laughing and chatting away with one of the blokes. Harry scurries after Louis.

Louis leads them down the side of the school. They pass a few kids on their way, mostly loners reading books or playing on their Nintendo DSes. Harry feels their pain; that was him for an entire two weeks when Niall was sick with mono in year nine.

Finally, they come to a stop at the janitors’ shed where Niall smokes. Louis drops his skateboard onto the grass and grabs Harry’s wrist, tugging him into the dark space between the walls. Harry’s about to ask what he wanted to show him, but he’s cut off by Louis’s mouth.

Harry’s back falls against the wall with a thud, Louis’ body covering his. He feels too warm and too comfortable, and Harry opens his mouth, kissing him harder.

“Hi,” Louis says, smiling against his lips.

Harry breathes out a laugh, feeling light. “Hi.”

“I’ve been thinking about doing this all morning,” Louis admits, smiling.

Harry hates that he has too.

Louis leans in to kiss him again, but Harry ducks his head, causing Louis’s mouth to come in contact with his earlobe. Harry sneaks a timid gaze up to see Louis’ confused expression. “What?”

“I just -” He bites on his bottom lip, hand still pressed against Louis’s belly. He can feel his every breath, the deflation and expansion. “You know that thing. That thing you said. Or, well, I mean, I guess you didn’t say it, but -” He sneaks another look at Louis. He only looks more confused, forehead lined with a dozen tiny wrinkles. “Look, do you think - or are we - you know, like, do you consider me to be like, you know. Your boyfriend or something?” Harry removes his hand from Louis’ belly and pulls it to his chest.

“I don’t know,” is Louis’s eventual reply. “Are you?”

“Well, it’s just that when Niall said -”

“Because he’s your friend, and I thought that meant that you told him we were or something.

“No, he just likes to make my life a living hell.”

“So…” he starts slowly, “being my boyfriend is what you consider a living hell?”

“No,” he says instantly. “Well, no.” He waits a moment, takes a deep breath, and asks, “Do you like, I don’t know, fancy me?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I just spent the entire morning thinking about you and trying to impress you with my lame skateboarding skills. You can’t really be that dense, can you?”

Harry’s face heats up, something flourishing and expanding inside his chest. “Really?” he asks, stupidly.

“Really.”

“Well, I guess I like you too.”

“You guess?” Louis presses, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

Harry laughs. “I do like you,” he corrects. “Even though you’re still kind of a total arse.”

“And you’re still a nerd who wears stupid sweaters.”

“Fair enough,” Harry agrees, laughing quietly. He leans forward and brushes his lips against Louis’. It’s soft, but he can feel it in his toes.

“So, does that mean…”

Harry nods, finger twisting into the hem of Louis’s shirt. “Yeah.”

When Louis kisses him, he can feel the smile.

*

This time when Louis walks through the door of Rainbow Youth, Harry’s beside him, their fingers intertwined.

 


End file.
